


Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Fallen Angel

by Sherlockian_nonsequitur



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Written in the style of original Sir ACD's works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:32:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlockian_nonsequitur/pseuds/Sherlockian_nonsequitur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have read all of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's works of Sherlock Holmes, re-reading several of them. This is my attempt at adopting his style of writing, creating a situation for the baker street boys that they have to solve, following the literary style of the great man himself. The type of quotation marks, the phrases used, and the layout of the story is a direct representation of the style of writing Doyle incorporated into his stories. What happens when a visitor claims he witnessed a murder, only to be called a mad man? Will Sherlock be able to solve the case?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Fallen Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock Holmes belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

(From the perspective of John Watson)

I was sitting one afternoon, the evening papers across my lap, as Sherlock Holmes hunched in his chair and smoked his pipe, staring intently into the fire. His work had been devoid of any appealing cases for several days now and so I taken taken the liberty of paying him a visit, leaving my wife at home in the comfort of one of her old school friends. We had passed the afternoon in companionable silence when suddenly there came a knock on the door, though I was certain that neither of us had been expecting a guest. Holmes hardly even glanced from the fire as the page boy entered and announced our visitor, a Mr. William Harris.

I set aside my papers and stood to acknowledge our visitor, who was a man to be of about fifty years of age, very timid and slight in features with deep set eyes and a thin mustache that covered his upper lip. I noticed a slight tremor in his hand as he removed his hat and stammered out his apologies for his unannounced entrance as the page boy shut the door behind him. Being the accepting host I motioned him towards a chair in front of the fire and asked him to warm himself. 

He obligingly took his seat, rubbing his hands over his weary face as he began to explain himself for his unexpected visit. 

‘I must apologize once again for the late hour that I have called upon, but the reasoning behind this sudden meeting is due to strange and inexplicable occurrences.”

At that statement Holmes lifted his head in eagerness and turned to look at the newcomer. ‘Tut tut, the disturbance is of no matter. Please, pray tell why you travelled all the way from Wescomb on the 7:20 train and then drove a dog cart in the dark in order to make my acquaintance.’

Mr. Harris began to stammer in amazement at my companion’s conjectures. ‘Why, that is all correct, how did you-’

Holmes waved away his stammerings with his a slight movement of his fingers. ‘ ‘Tis merely observation, I noticed the specks of mud upon your right sleeve, no less than seven, whose appearance are from the similar way a dog cart flips the mud up; and the mud being on the right sleeve shows that you were the driver. I merely reasoned your travel by train by observing a ticket stub sticking out of the corner of your pocket stating the time and location of your travel.’

‘Oh,’ the man stammered, once again running his hands over his face. He leaned back in his chair, obviously fatigued, his face furrowed with stress lines.

‘I must begin my tale with informing you that I am not a mad man and am perfectly sound in mind and habits,’ he began, His grey eyes flashing between the two of us in a hectic craze, as if he were determining whether or not to trust us. 

‘I can assure you that Doctor Watson and I will accept your information with no bias and your struggle will be handled in the utmost discretion on our parts.’ Sherlock stated, leaning his head back against the chair and closing his eyes, blue rings of smoke puffing from between his lips.

Taking the announcement as an invitation to begin his narrative, our strange newcomer fidgeted in his chair and took a deep breath. 

‘This morning I was a witness to a murder,’ he began in a grave voice. I sat forwards in my chair, intensely interested while Sherlock remained puffing his pipe, his countenance showing no response to the drastic statement. 

‘Before telling you of this singular event, I must give a background to the perpetrators. I am the neighbor to the Hayworth residence where Mr. Hayworth lives with his three young children. He is a widower; his first wife taken from him some three years ago, and he has three young children. He is a man of quick temper and furious retributions, always willing to lash out whenever something does not go his way.’ He pulled his lips back into a sneer as he discussed his neighbor in open contempt before continuing; ‘his children were just as bad; they were the most repulsive creatures; snobbish little devils, if you don’t mind me saying, and I took every opportunity to avoid them and their father.’

‘He had taken his children on a vacation this past year to spend their time in a summer home somewhere north of London, and I was glad to be rid of them. Offtimes I was kept up at night by his constant yelling, and during the day his children took pleasure in tormenting and rampaging through my garden. I am a quiet man, you see, and my neighbors with their constant shouting was absolutely intolerable.

‘Our homes are separated by a long line of trees and a rather extensive garden on my side, and though both homes are sturdily built with thick walls, his shouting is still capable of carrying throughout my house. His home is two stories high, with a high balcony in the back, and it is a rather rich estate. For the past three years he has been incapable of keeping a governess for his tyrant children for more than a few weeks, as his offspring are so intolerable. Several times I have seen weeping governesses flee from his home as two demonic little boys giggle and laugh in the doorway and jeer and make crude gestures at her retreating form, the youngest child no doubt causing chaos somewhere else in the house.

‘I have often been witness to Mr. Hayworth’s eruption of anger towards his children, and I have often conjectured that his fury has been turned to blows. I suppose I can somewhat understand Mr. Hayworth’s temper, as if I had to deal with those children I would certainly blow a musket myself. However, I diverge from the topic.

‘When he returned with his children from their summer home I was completely shocked to find that he had remarried during his summer vacation. I could not imagine any respectable woman choosing to spend the rest of her life with him or his offspring, but to my surprise the woman he chose to wed is the most remarkable woman I have ever met.

His face then changed from a look of utter disgust from the telling of his neighbor as his thoughts turned to the new Mrs. Hayworth, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he stared off at nothing in particular. 

‘Jane Carlyle-Hayworth is the most amazing woman, having a very fine appearance with golden blonde hair and quiet demeanor and she’s very proper and well kept. Apparently she became his governess while they were at their summer home when she fell in love with Mr. Hayworth; they were soon married and she left her job as a governess in northern London to move in with him as his wife in Wescomb. 

‘Previously I have mentioned of how- in my opinion- the children were the most ill-behaved and intolerable children, taking after the mannerisms of their detestable father and were incapable of retaining one governess for a prolonged period of time. However, their disposition has changed remarkably since her arrival and they have since then been of much better temperament.

‘While the children have become much more well behaved from their new mother’s influence, I cannot say the same about Mr. Hayworth’s disposition.’ His eyes darkened as he continued his narrative, ‘Oftentimes, I am kept up at night from his outbursts,and I don’t doubt for a moment that he has occasionally used physical violence against his young children and new wife.’

‘Have you neglected contacting the authorities?’ I ejaculated, stunned by the abhorrent behavior of Mr. Hayworth. 

He solemnly shook his head. ‘I have told the police my suspicions, but upon investigation nothing was shown. There was never any evidence of bruising or any violence upon any member of the family, and since the inquiry Mr. Hayworth has taken it upon himself to spend less and less time at home, even though his children are much better behaved and his household is much more controlled. 

‘Mrs. Hayworth must be an angel sent from above; she has been a blessing to the children, as they are no longer any sort of the terrible tyrants they were before she came into the picture. She is a very gentle creature, elegant, meek and kind, with a sound head on her shoulders and countless talents. Her kind and gentle nature allowed her to quickly make friends and she receives visitors daily.’

‘Only when Mr. Hayworth is out of the house, I presume?’ Holmes stated, acknowledging that he was indeed listening though he appeared to be asleep with his eyes shut and head leaning back in his seat. 

‘Yes, though I’m certain that her husband knows at least somewhat of her dealings.’

‘And what dealings are those, exactly?’ I conjectured, curious as to why a housewife would receive daily visitors without the inclusion of her husband.

‘For guidance and gossip, I suppose, and I myself had taken the liberty to make her acquaintance on a few occasions.” Mr. Harris admitted, sheepishly glancing at the rug. ‘She is of the most wonderful disposition, and one feels enlightened in her presence; she gives the most sound advice and is always so welcoming. I have never heard her utter a single negative word from her mouth, and though I have brought up the subject of her abusive husband; for I have no doubts that he is abusive against his family though the reports have proven otherwise, she has only uttered words of kindness towards Mr. Hayworth.’

‘I’m certain that your narrative will now turn to the murder you witnessed, if I am correct?’ Holmes stated, opening his eyes and resting his fierce gaze at his guest. 

Mr. Harris stammered and began to wring his hands, his face taking on a deathly pale color. ‘Certainly, certainly, though it was so strange and utterly incomprehensible-’

He cleared his throat and examined his hands as he continued to wring them. ‘I was taking my daily walk along the street and was passing by the Hayworth residence, during which I offtimes take the liberty of visiting Mrs. Hayworth, the habit of which was no different on this occasion. I decided to meet with her and began to walk down her drive, when to my surprise I heard the distant sound of shouting; specifically Mr. Hayworth’s boisterous yelling. Based on his habits I knew that he should have been in town, as normally he doesn’t return home until late at night and sometimes doesn’t return for days on end, so I was surprised to hear him there at midday. 

‘Curious and afraid for the safety of his family, for I know that when Mr. Hayworth gets into one of his moods his rantings and ravings can become dangerous, I progressed along the path. I rounded the house and heard the quarrelling come from the upper balcony, and as I took the corner round the house I saw two distinct figures on the balcony, of whom I made out to be Mr. and Mrs. Hayworth, the latter’s back facing me and leaning against the railing. I was unable to hear what their discussion was about, but Mr. Hayworth was visibly upset while his wife seemed to be in the defensive. 

‘I witnessed, to my utter shock, as Mr. Hayworth raised his hand and sent a staggering blow to his wife. She was knocked back over the railing and fell; and though there was a shrubbery in my way and I could not see her landing, I distinctly heard the sound of her crunching body against the hard pavement below.’

He sunk forwards on his seat and held his head in his hands as he moaned, ‘Oh, the sound, the wretched sound Mr. Holmes... of crushing bones... I knew she was dead...’ He continued to moan, his fingers pulling at his black hair in distress. 

‘What did you do after she fell?’ Holmes asked, wanting Mr. Harris to progress in his narrative. 

‘I exclaimed in shock from the sight, drawing Mr. Hayworth’s attention. I moved forwards to approach the body, which was still hidden from my sight, but I saw my neighbor remove a pistol from his pocket and point it at me as he shouted at me to leave his premises. I pressed forwards but then he began shooting, and so I turned and ran.’

Mr. Harris was visibly distressed as he began to sob into his hands. I moved forwards and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder as his body convulsed in wretched sobs. After a few minutes he composed himself, wiping away his tears and blowing his nose on a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. Thus situated, he continued:

‘I went straight to the police station as fast as my legs could carry me and gave them my report. Soon afterwards they mounted up and I followed along in a buggy with the DI as they lead the way to the crime scene. 

‘It was to my utter surprise that when we arrived and knocked on the door to the Hayworth residence, when none other than Mrs. Hayworth herself opened the door.’

Homes sat upright in his chair, visibly shocked by the turn of events. Mr. Harris disregarded Holmes’ reaction as he continued:

‘You can imagine my embarrassment as the fellow officers turned to look at me in confusion, and all I could do is stand gaping with my jaw about to hit the floor as the woman who I had just seen fall from the second story balcony stood in the doorway. 

‘Mrs. Hayworth looked as stunning as ever, her blonde hair back in a loose bun, her clothing proper and well kept with no signs of the struggle I had witnessed. On her hip she held the youngest child, little Susan, who is little over three years old. She was comforting the child, fresh tears streaming down the young one’s face. Mrs. Hayworth was surprised to see the group of officers around her door, but she accepted them all with a smile.

“ ‘Well,’ said she, visibly amused, ‘I hadn’t expected such a large company to visit, so I do apologize in advance for the state of my home. Please do come in.’ She then held the door wide open as the officers entered, offering their apologies and sending darting looks at me. She was always willing to let anyone enter and is ever the tolerant host, and she wasn’t upset at all by the seven or so men standing at her door.

‘I was at a loss of words, I had just witnessed her murder, and yet there she was, happily letting us all into her home. When we entered the study we saw Mr. Hayworth’s other two children, their expressions full of shock and confusion upon the entrance of so many men. Five year old Jacob and seven year old Michael were sitting on the floor among their blocks silently playing. Mrs. Hayworth handed the young child to the older boy and sent them off to their rooms, and they silently obliged her order and departed swiftly. 

‘The DI began to explain why we were all there, of how I had witnessed her fall from the balcony, and awkwardly apologized for their intrusion when he could see that nothing was wrong. 

‘ “Oh,” she exclaimed upon the revelation, turning her gaze to rest on me. I was utterly confused and was still trying to wrap my mind around the matter and as her attention fell on me I felt heavy embarrassment for being in the wrong.’ 

He paused and looked straight towards Sherlock, ‘I can assure you,’ he stated resolutely, ‘that what I witnessed was not a folly of my imagination. I never could have been capable of imagining such a sound as the landing of her fall, and though I did not see the impact I did hear it, and I’m certain that the sound will haunt my nightmares forever.’

Sherlock regarded him with curiosity but remained silent on the matter, allowing Mr. Harris to continue.

‘She began to explain herself, her voice clear and sure,’ Mr. Harris explained, ‘ “I did have a little row with him earlier today,” said she, “we did have a rather heated discussion on the balcony, but I can assure you that I did not fall.”

‘ “Where is Mr. Hayworth now?” the DI asked, shuffling uncomfortably as obviously Mrs. Hayworth was alive and well and there was no clue as to her husband having any violence done against her. Though the inspector had no wish to involve himself into their private affairs, he was apparently determined to follow the matter through to the end in order to reason why or how I had come to the conclusion that Mrs. Hayworth had been knocked from her balcony. 

‘ “Upstairs in his room resting;” she replied to his question; “our argument left him rather ill at ease and he’s having a lie down.” She looked very concerned, though I do not believe it was for her husband’s sake. Instead she peered at me in sympathy as if she were ashamed that I had witnessed the fighting. 

‘The inspector then asked if he and his men could have a look around the premises to determine what might have happened to make me believe that she had fallen, and she gladly allowed it. They all left the room to look beneath the balcony, and I found myself alone with her. I examined her closely, but there was no sign of bruising on her face from the blow I had witnessed, and there was nothing on her clothing that would show that she had been lying on the ground not even an hour before.

‘ “I’m sorry that you witnessed the argument between my husband and I,” said she, resting a hand on my elbow in compassion. ‘I can assure you that no damage will ever come to me from his outbursts, no matter what fit he finds himself in.”’

He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. ‘I can make no heads nor tails of the matter, Mr. Holmes. She offered me no explanation for why I had seen her fall, saying that nothing had been dropped and preluding that I must have imagined the entire affair. After speaking with Mrs. Hayworth for a few moments I went to explore the area beneath the balcony in order to form my own conclusions, certain that there would be some proof of what I had witnessed.

‘I had begun to reason that her fall must have been softened somehow, so I went out back to investigate. 

‘The balcony hangs two stories high over a small cement porch, and there is nothing nearby that she could have rolled off of to slow her descent or catch onto to stop her fall. It’s just open space from the balcony to the cement ground, and though the officers and myself thoroughly searched, there was no blood nor fabric upon the pavement to be found that would prove her fall. Neither was there any proof of something else falling that would provide a reason for the sound I heard, which I knew was unmistakably the crushing sound of a human body hitting the pavement.

‘The police officers soon left after finding no trace of the incident and returned once again to apologize to Mrs. Hayworth, probably assuming that I had conjectured the entire matter from my own delusions. It didn’t help my case that I had previously gone to them before- claiming that Mr. Hayworth had physically abused his children and wife- with the same result that their was no proof of my claims when they had done their investigation and saw that there was no damage done. 

‘That is when I had the sudden idea to take the case to you, as I have heard of your astounding exploits in unraveling the strange and obscure, and why I took such a late train and rushed on a dog cart in order to make it to your residence.’ 

He ended his narrative in a huff, pleadingly looking towards Mr. Holmes. ‘I am not mad or insane; I saw what I saw and I in no wise made up any of my narrative.’ He explained, desperately wringing his hands together.

Holmes stood and began pacing in front of the fire, furiously puffing on his pipe as he contemplated the strange tale, his brows furrowed in concentration.

‘Was the fact that Mr. Hayworth had fired off shots at you ever brought up in the inquiry?’ Holmes suddenly asked, turning to face the guest.

Mr. Harris nodded fervently, though his lips frowned in consternation. “Yes, I had remarked to the inspector that I had been fired upon, so during their investigation upon the grounds they searched for the bullet shells, but there was nothing to be found. After their search they asked once again to see Mr. Hayworth to see if there were any powder stains on his hand, but his wife fervently declined to get him; stating that he much needed his rest. They asked after the pistol but she firmly stated that she had no recollection of her husband using one and then very politely invited us to take our leave.’ 

‘Peculiar,’ Sherlock muttered under his breath. ‘Did any other neighbors hear the shots fired?’ He questioned, holding his smoking pipe off to the side.

‘If they did they failed to report, and the DI didn’t think to ask.’’ Mr. Harris stated with a shrug of his shoulders. 

‘Well, that was a failure on their part. If nothing else Mr. Hayworth could be charged with attempted manslaughter, though I highly doubt that he was aiming to kill you, Mr. Harris. Though I suppose that you were trespassing on his property, so he had justifiable reasons to scare you off...’

‘But Mrs. Hayworth!’ Mr. Harris exclaimed, jumping to his feet. ‘She died; I saw her die, and then she was alive. My only explanation on the matter is that she must be an angel sent to this earth to care for the Hayworth children, and though she was murdered her time was not yet complete so she came back to life after her fall. I can think of no rational explanation behind this extraordinary event and my only hope is that you have reached your own conclusions on the matter. Have you any conjecture on how Mrs. Hayworth could still be alive?

‘I have many theories behind the events, though before I draw any conclusions I still have a few questions for you to answer.’

‘Pray, ask them!’

‘Is there anyone you are aware of that matches Mrs. Hayworth in appearance that could have been on the balcony with her husband this morning?’

‘No; I’m certain that it was her. I could recognize her features from any distance, even if she was faced away from me.’

‘Are you certain?’

‘Quite. There is no other like Mrs. Hayworth, and I don’t believe anyone else would dare to be alone with Mr. Hayworth when he is in a mood. She is the only one willing to try to calm his temper.’

‘Was there nothing else on the balcony that could have fallen in the stead of Mrs. Hayworth that would result in the distressing sound you heard?’

‘No, there was nothing else on the balcony. I distinctly saw her fall over the railing, though I did not see her landing.’

‘Did she scream or utter any sounds as she fell?’

‘None.’

‘While Mr. and Mrs. Hayworth were arguing did you hear Mrs. Hayworth speak?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I’m certain that that has been enough questioning for the night. I would suggest for you to return to your home and put the matter behind you, and be comforted that no harm will befall Mrs. Hayworth or the children and never has.’

‘Are you quite certain?’ Mr. Harris exclaimed hopefully. 

‘You have nothing to fear. Now, I bid you good night and safe travels.’ 

Mr. Harris took his leave, somewhat relieved though still obviously confused. 

Holmes remained standing by the fire and began chuckling to himself. 

‘What is so amusing?’ Said I, thoroughly confused by my companion’s behavior, not at all following whatever reasoning he had had on the matter.

‘What a peculiar sequence of events! I say Watson, what do you think of the matter?’ 

Not sure of myself, but willing to attempt my opinion, I stated; ‘Mr. Harris must be mad.’

‘Hmm.’ Holmes hummed.

‘There are a few points of his narrative that I don’t quite understand.’ I began to explain, ‘why had he waited until after the arrival of the new wife to finally report to the police of the abuse he had been hearing in the house? Also, if he so detested the young children and the entire Hayworth house, why would he then suddenly take it upon himself to visit there so often unless to visit with the new Mrs.? 

‘He was obviously rather taken with Mrs. Hayworth, what with with proclamation of admiration towards her, and he was very concerned of her welfare even though she seemed very capable of taking care of herself. He began to have the delusions that Mrs. Hayworth was being abused by her husband, and the loud shouting he heard from the household only furthered his beliefs. 

‘I can only assume that the entire affair of the fall was a delusion; his delusions had become so far fetched that finally he made himself believe that something tragic had finally occurred between the Mr. and Mrs. that would enable him to come to the rescue of Mrs. Hayworth and rescue her from her intolerable husband, though I don’t quite understand why he jumped to the conclusion of Mrs. Hayworth’s death instead of inventing a minor injury.’

‘I’m certain that you are correct on quite a few accounts, Watson.” Sherlock stated, ‘though I have to disagree with your statement that Mr. Harris is mad, for he is not. I believe he accurately witnessed the events, though it is true that Mrs. Hayworth did not fall. 

‘Mr. Harris most likely did hear forms of abuse in emanating from the house at night, though the abuse must have been against an inanimate object rather than the wife or children, as they never showed any signs of such physical violence. There was no sign of such violence against Mrs. Hayworth upon the investigation today, but if we are to believe Mr. Harris’ statement we must conclude that someone or something that appeared to be Mrs. Hayworth was stricken off the balcony. As I have mentioned previously, once you eliminate all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. 

‘Mrs. Hayworth did not fall from the balcony, but something that appeared to be her did. Mr. Hayworth physically abused something and not someone as no one in family was ever damaged, and piecing all of these facts together I have come to the conclusion that it must have been a life sized caricature of her that he allowed himself to enact his frustrations upon.’

‘How peculiar!’ I ejaculated, stunned by his conclusion. 

‘Indeed.’ He remarked. ‘After realizing that he had a witness to his abuse against the dummy and fearing that his abnormal behavior had been revealed, and being in a fit of frustration, Mr. Hayworth fired at Mr. Harris to make him depart from the premises. He then must have retrieved the dummy and hid it, as it is no healthy habit to discharge one’s frustration against a realistic caricature on the one whom he is in anger against, and the revelation of such would certainly deem careful watch from the authorities in case he should ever progress from hurting the dummy to actually harming the people he is upset with. 

‘Mrs. Hayworth must be fully aware of the manner of which he vents his frustrations, as she was in the same building of him and must have heard his shouting. His children also must of heard the row, which would explain the youngest one’s tears and the boy’s shocked faces upon the entrance of the authorities. Mrs. Hayworth, like any respectable woman, would naturally protect her husband, which is why she admitted to the investigators that she was the one on the balcony with her husband, dismissing the concept of her fall entirely and keeping the secret of the abused dummy safe.

‘She then prevented the authorities to see Mr. Hayworth as the powder stains on his hand would prove the fact that he had fired off shots towards Mr. Harris, giving added proof to Mr. Harris’ claim.” He finished his explanation with a satisfied puff of his pipe, and I was left to muse over the remarkable deductive capabilities of my companion.


End file.
